


Of Coffee and Conversations

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Series: who's with us [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miller works at a diner and Monty chooses him as his waiter every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Coffee and Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Response to the prompt "You come to the restaurant I work at and choose me as your waiter(ess) every time just to annoy me and I can’t do anything in retribution or I’ll get fired AU" given to me on tumblr by monty-greeen

“Your boyfriend is here,” Clarke singsonged, sending him an annoying wink as she side stepped him to deliver food to the corner booth. Miller groaned as he turned his eyes to the entrance, finding Clarke to be right as Monty came in carrying his backpack and two computer bags.

“Not my boyfriend,” Miller grumbled as he grabbed his notepad, but it was more to himself than anyone else as Clarke was already over talking to her table across the diner.

Monty had somehow managed to already set up two computers by the time Miller arrived at the table, and Miller knew by the casual clothing and the determined eyes that Monty sat with he was planning on being here for the free wifi and endless coffee all day.

“Coffee? Caffeinated?” Miller opened with, watching Monty pause his fingers and turn toward him.

“You know me so well,” Monty joked. “Also put in a full stack of pancakes while you’re at it.”

“Sure,” Miller replied, writing it down on the pad despite the fact that he knew the order by heart. Monty was in here at least once a week, usually more, and though he changed up his order from time to time, he almost always started with the same. He  _also_  always sat down in Miller’s space, being annoyingly cheery and making everyone in the diner fall in love with him and smiling  _too damn much_  just for the sake of it. It had become rather apparent early on that he was doing it just to spite him, but Miller still hadn’t managed to figure out why.

Clarke claimed it was because he liked him. Miller wasn’t convinced.

 “Clarke, I like your haircut,” Monty called. Clarke turned away from Murphy as she put in another order, and grabbed at her hair as she smiled.

“You’re such a suck up, Monty,” she called back. “Thank you.”

“You really are a suck up,” Miller grumbled, eyeing him as Monty slowly turned to look at him.

“You didn’t notice, huh?” Monty joked, playing it off. Miller stoically continued to eye him, unsure why he was still standing there in the first place, and turned away to the sounds of Monty’s fingers tapping a quick rhythm on his keyboard.

“You two are such a cute couple,” Clarke teased, jovially sitting on the counter and watching Miller as he hung the order up in front of Murphy who purposefully stayed quiet.

“You have nothing better to do with your time?” Miller returned with narrowed eyes. “He’s slowly ruining my life.”

“ _You_  two are slowly ruining my life,” Murphy muttered.

“Oh, shove off, Murphy,” Clarke groaned. “You know you love us. Without us your life is Netflix documentaries and patiently hoping Emori will walk in to this shitty diner.”

“Props,” Murphy declared contemplatively, “that was actually a fairly accurate description of my life.”

“We’re friends, Murphy, just admit it,” Clarke replied.

“I’m not his friend,” Miller stated, pointing over at him. “Murphy tried to kill me.”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” he groaned. “How many times are we going to have this argument.”

“Until the day I die, hopefully of natural causes and not because you’re going to shank me in the parking lot.”

“One time I accidentally almost stab you and we can never live it down,” Murphy replied, turning away for a brief second to pour batter into the ready waffle maker.

“I shouldn’t have to have almost been stabbed once!” Miller argued.

“It was dark and you have speech problems. Announce yourself next time instead of your creepy mumbling, you sounded like a Gremlin. I had the right,” Murphy defended.

“Can we go more than a couple hours one of these days before we get into this argument?” Clarke questioned. “Go bring your boyfriend coffee before he dies.”

Miller’s eyes narrowed again, but he grabbed the coffee pot as she had suggested and moved back toward Monty. His eyes didn’t leave the computer screen as Miller poured it, his fingers typing at speeds he couldn’t even imagine. There were two laptops in front of him, one he was typing on quickly and the other he continuously scanned over to. In actuality, for all Monty had been in the diner Miller didn’t really know what he even did.

“You’re staring at me,” Monty stated monotonously, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Sorry, just realized I don’t know what you do on those computers,” Miller stated, trying his hardest to sound detached. Monty tapped at the keys for several seconds more before looking up, gaging Miller’s face before speaking. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you what I’m doing.”

“You know my name,” Miller spoke slowly, his eyebrows raised.

“Your first name,” Monty countered. Miller contemplated the words, wondering how much it really meant to him to know, but in the end his curiosity won out.

“Nathan,” Miller grumbled, never breaking his eye contact. Monty smiled hugely at him in return, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing to speak.

“I’m doing freelance code work,” Monty answered for him. “It brings in cash to pay for my half of the rent and keeps me out of trouble.”

“Keeps you out of trouble?” Miller proposed, raising a single eyebrow in question.

“You’re going to need more bargaining material for that story,” Monty replied, and Miller couldn’t help but find himself pulled in by the sheepish smile Monty threw his way. Miller shook himself out of it, ignoring the desire to find something interesting to bring up so he could know and moved back toward the now bickering Clarke and Murphy.

 

* * *

 

 Miller wiped down the counter for the millionth time, mostly just to keep his hands preoccupied. Besides the elderly man who’d come in an hour previously and only wanted constant refills of Diet Coke (Miller, to be honest, wasn’t entirely convinced he was still alive, but he was too scared to go check), the diner was dead, though it wasn’t that surprising considering it was a half hour after midnight.

The bell over the door jingled, breaking the silence, and Miller slowly raised his eyes to see Monty shuffle in. He looked dead, his eyes drooping and the single computer bag that was slung over his shoulder looking incomparably heavy on his small frame. Instead of moving toward the booth he usually sat at, he moved toward the counter and flopped down right in front of him.

“Do you have gasoline fluid? I’m thirsty and trying to improve my day,” Monty grumbled, dropping his head to the counter.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Miller questioned, incapable of holding back his gaze as he watched Monty with curiosity.  

“It would be easier to tell you what didn’t happen to me,” he sighed, finally pushing off the counter and resting his head on his hand.

“Ok,” Miller pushed, stepping away from the counter and slipping into the back room. He was gone for a minute or two, Monty pathetically dazing off into the distance as a blender whirred to life, and returned with a straw and a chocolate shake. “Here.”

“Did you just make me a chocolate shake?” Monty exclaimed with a tired voice, an exhausted smile stretching over his lips. “I knew I was growing on you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Miller replied, rolling his eyes. “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s made you so open?” Monty asked.

Miller shrugged. “Boredom, exhaustion, more boredom,” he replied.

“I met someone from my past, someone I haven’t seen for a really long time,” Monty stated.

“This have anything to do with that mysterious past that you need coding jobs to stay out of trouble from?” Miller proposed.

“You have something to trade that information for yet?” Monty reminded, his tired smile stretching the smallest bit larger. There was something kinda alluring about Monty’s tired eyes and smile, but Miller also kinda hated it so his expression stayed still.

“Hey, I made you a chocolate shake,” Miller pointed out.

“Why do you hate me?” Monty queried, his face open and curious. For the severity of his words he didn’t seem much offended by the thought, but Miller was taken aback by the bluntness.

“I don’t hate you,” he replied with a shrug. Monty didn’t seem to buy it, eyeing him down and huffing out a grunt in reply.

“That’s what you have to answer if you want to know,” Monty countered.

Miller breathed slowly out, narrowing his eyes slightly in contemplation at the words as he leaned his hip against the counter. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“So you just hate me without reason?”

“I was being honest, I don’t hate you at all,” Miller repeated. “One day you come in here, wooing everyone around you with this ease I have never had with people and show an interest in me that was entirely unwarranted. More than anything I was confused as to why you would care about bothering me at all.”

“I find you interesting,” Monty stated.

“What do you mean?” Miller replied, complexed.

“That question was never part of the deal,” Monty teased, pulling the shake closer to him. He latched on to the straw, tiredly taking a slug of shake before sighing again. “The reason I have to take coding jobs to keep me busy is because I’m good with computers. I always has been, it’s like a second language to me, I’ve always just got them…”

“And?” Miller prompted.

“And when my parents couldn’t find it in their budget to pay for college, I turned to some illegal ways of getting the cash. This day and age money is almost always just numbers on a screen, turns out I’m rather good at manipulating that,” Monty admitted.

“Shit, man,” Miller commented, whistling at the admission.

Monty shrugged, taking another ship from his shake before continuing. “I got caught cause I was stupid enough to leave the back door unlocked, in a metaphorical sense,” he clarified. “Ended up spending some time in juvie, had a parole officer when I got out, the whole nine yards.”

Miller watched his face crumple as he thought about the words he was going to say next. Monty had clearly been upset before, but now true despair was evidently splashed across his face, molding Monty’s features into something practically difficult to look at. Suddenly Miller was wishing he could do something far greater than just a chocolate shake, but he didn’t know why he even cared in the first place.

“I’m not ashamed of what I did to start the life I wanted; I might be a criminal but I’m honest enough to admit that, but what I did to  _him_ …” he trailed off, his voice turning to a hush. Miller could feel his own face contract with compassion, leaning in the slightest bit more as Monty cleared his throat and continued in a whisper. “I saw someone I used to be really close to today. I thought there was nothing that could tear us apart, friends forever, you know? I fucked up, Miller,  _really_  fucked up.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of it,” Miller admitted. Monty’s eyes snapped to his face, clear and hard, and out of all the surprises that had been thrown at Miller tonight, the sharpness of Monty’s eyes in that instant was by far the biggest.

“Pray you don’t find out what you’re capable of to survive,” Monty replied, trying to lighten his words with a pathetic shrug. “I ruined his life. Three years ago I ruined his life and he still can’t even look at me.”

Miller’s eyes stayed trained on his face, the air seeming to stop moving around them, the silence becoming deafening. He broke the gaze with a slow nod, stepping back from the counter and turning away from Monty, bending down and reaching behind a box of straws to pull out a small flask.

“This is the emergency flask, reserved strictly for rainy days,” Miller announced. He thought he saw the corner of Monty’s mouth begin to perk up, twitching the slightest bit, but he couldn't be sure. “And Monty, your day has been a fucking hurricane.”

Monty burst into laughter, his head thrown back, and Miller wasn’t sure if what he had said was actually funny in some way or Monty was just beyond tired, but either way he was grateful for the moment. Miller couldn’t help his own smile as he poured almost all of the contents of the flask straight into his shake (minus two swigs he took for himself), and watched with amusement as Monty took a drink just to cringe.

“Sorry, I went heavy,” Miller apologized.

“No, no,” Monty cut him off, sending him a grateful look. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Nathan.”

Miller was taken aback by the use of his name, and though usually he would have found himself upset by the intimateness of it, he found he kinda didn’t mind that much when it was Monty.

 

* * *

 

 Monty strolled in two days later with a bottle of vodka he gifted with a smile that was far too cheery for the early morning (the bottle is also entirely inappropriate for the time of day and how cheery Monty looked holding it, but Miller didn’t have the heart to be mean). Miller isn’t entirely sure how Monty had always been able to know exactly when he was working, but Miller was starting to realize that Clarke may have been intervening this whole time a lot more than he’d originally thought.

“Where’s Clarke?” Miller asked Murphy, realizing as he watched Monty move toward his regular booth with the bottle held stiffly in his hands how dangerous it was to still be holding it. Miller bent down, shoving it back behind the huge box of straws, and pushed back to full height just to see Murphy flipping his pancakes with too much zeal.

“Smoking out back,” Murphy replied.

“Clarke doesn’t smoke.”

“But she does want smoking breaks,” Murphy answered. “I don’t think Indra has caught on yet that Clarke’s been smoking an e-cigarette this whole time and there isn’t even any nicotine in it.”

“She’s a genius,” Miller scoffed. Murphy nodded along, his actions too bubbly as he spun around an extra time to grab the salt from behind him. “Wait, Emori here?’

“No,” Murphy scoffed, “what would make you think that?”

“One, you’re acting like an idiot. Two, she’s literally sitting in a booth right in front of me,” Miller replied. “I’m staring at her as we speak.”

Murphy stopped his actions, staring him down with his eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Miller exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“This is really cute, really it is,” Raven interjected, sneaking up behind Miller as she grabbed two plates from the delivery counter. “But can you two do your flirting some other time? We’re swamped right now and Clarke is pretending to smoke out back.”

“So inconsiderate Raven, his actual boyfriend is right there,” Murphy teased, sending a wink before turning back to his work.

“Very funny,” Miller replied with a sarcastic smile. “I’m dying over here.”

“Coffee,” Raven ordered, grabbing the pot after sliding the plates across the counter to a young couple who were far too lost in each other’s eyes to properly care. She pushed it into his hands and narrowed her eyes. “Now.”

“Fine, woman,” Miller agreed, grasping the handle sturdily as he turned away. Miller did a swoop of the whole restaurant, making conversation with the regulars and using his best waiter smile (it hurt to be so cheery, but he liked money and that came from tips) before he finally spotted Monty again. Despite usually being alone, a thin brunette sat across from him wearing a white dress and a light blue sweater, her hair filled with a few braids and a flower headband. 

A part of him wanted to avoid the table at all costs. Monty could bother him on a good day, but there was something about the energy he and the girl emitted that made him feel like he needed to watch out for the pair. Miller knew how bothersome Monty became when he didn’t get his coffee, though, so he swallowed his pride and made his way to them.

“Coffee?” he spoke, already pouring a cup for Monty as he spoke. The girl raised a single eyebrow, smiling in the sort of mischievous way that Miller recognized from whispered conversations between Raven and Clarke in the back. Monty rolled his eyes at her and turned to give a smile to Miller.

“Thanks, Nathan,” he greeted. “This is my friend Harper.”

“Nathan, huh?” she questioned, the smile still stubbornly in place.

“It’s actually Miller,” he corrected, his lips pursing in the slightest bit of annoyance.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ll have some decaf please,” she requested. Miller felt the desire to smile for a split second at the groan Monty released at her comment, but it was pushed away at the uncontrollable annoyance he felt bubbling up.

“I’ll be back to get your orders soon,” Miller grunted, turning away without waiting for a single comment. Clarke was back from her break, and she looked up from her notepad with concern as he pushed back to the counter and rushed to Murphy. “Can we switch?”

“What?” Murphy exclaimed. “You have very little experience with the griddle. It’s an art.”

“I have enough,” Miller insisted. “I can’t talk to people right now, it won’t be good for business. Please trade...Emori’s in my section, man.”

“Deal,” he blurted, throwing off the apron and grabbing Miller’s notepad with a shit-eating grin. “Just don’t fuck up.”

“I won’t,” Miller promised, feeling a tightness build up in his chest as he moved toward the stove. The pressure kept him moving forward, the world falling away around him as he filled order after order with the precision he’d been bred with.

“She’s gone,” a voice came. Miller popped his head up from an omelette to see Murphy holding out the pad of paper, beckoning for his apron with the other.

“Fine,” Miller groaned, passing it back over.

He was surprised to see the majority of the rush cleared away as he had worked in the back, the concept of time having slipped between his fingers. Monty and Harper still sat in the booth, barely touched food by their side as they laughed continuously throughout their conversation.

“You look jealous,” Clarke declared. Miller jolted out of his thought, his heart skipping a beat at the surprise.

“Jesus,” Miller exclaimed harshly. “Warn a guy.”

“Subject avoidance.”

“I’m not jealous,” Miller replied. “We do remember that I don’t like him, right?”

“Yea, keep telling yourself that,” Raven piped in, carrying dirty plates as she sent him a sarcastic smile.

“Go offer him free pie or something,” Clarke suggested.

“Wow,” Miller responded, his voice full of sarcasm, “with skills like that I don’t know how you’re still single.”

“Ass,” she grumbled, flipping him off as she moved away. Miller sighed but walked toward the table, feeling weirdly uncomfortable as he stepped into their moment.

“Hey,” Monty stated, the smile filled with laughter still firmly on his lips. “You disappeared for a while.”

“Murphy’s in love with a girl who comes here about once a week to work on her novel,” Miller supplied. “I felt like being a good friend.”

“That’s nice of you,” Harper spoke up, but Miller felt uncomfortable with the way she looked at him.

Miller shrugged. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“We’ll talk the check when you get a chance,” Harper answered.

“I’m going to head to the restroom real quick,” Monty stated, already out of the booth by the time the words were half out. Miller felt distinctly uncomfortable as Harper stared him down.

“Don’t hurt him.”

“What?” Miller exclaimed. “What does that even mean?”

“Monty’s tougher than he looks,” Harper continued, “but he has some kind of weird soft spot for you. Please don’t use that against him.”

“I’m an asshole,” Miller replied honestly. “You know it and I know it, but Monty for some reason hasn’t wised up to it. He keeps thinking that way there won’t be much I can do about not hurting him.”

“Nah,” Harper replied, shaking her head. “I don’t believe it. That boy tends to see things fairly straight on, even if he leans too far toward optimism. You aren’t an asshole, Miller, you’re just too used to people thinking you are.”

“Ready to go?” Monty proposed, popping up behind Miller as the words rattled in his head. He shook away his convoluted thoughts, handing over the check as Harper sent him a friendly wink.

“Nice to meet you, Miller,” she declared, and the warm smile she sent his way made him feel fairly confident she actually meant it.

“See ya later,” Monty agreed, half waving before he turned away and the two of them made their way out of the restaurant. Miller picked up the bills Harper had haphazardly thrown on the table, praising her for at least being a good tipper, and tried to forget about the thoughts she had planted in his head.

It proved harder than anticipated.

 

* * *

 

 “You were weird last time,” Monty stated.

“I just asked what you want to eat,” Miller groaned. Monty raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation, and Miller gave in, checking to make sure the diner was still just as empty as it had been seconds prior. Raven and Murphy were playing go fish over the order counter, and Miller figured he could take a second and sit. “I wasn’t being weird.”

“You were being a little weird.”

“Your friend Harper was very aggressive,” Miller replied with a shrug. He may or may not have been exaggerating, but he kinda felt like it was justified.

“She did not,” Monty groaned, hitting his head back against the seat. “She’s kinda protective.”

“Kinda protective? She threatened to murder my first born child if I crossed you,” Miller replied.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Monty scoffed. “You’re also prone to dramatics, so I’m going to assume she was a lot calmer that that.”

“You’re one of the first to ever tell me I’m dramatic,” Miller declared.

“That’s probably because people think you’re all stoic and non-responsive,” Monty explained. “Truth is you’ve got a lot hiding right below it.”

Miller stayed silent for a few seconds, probably pondering the words Monty had just spoken, but it was more out of shock than anything else. He felt unsure of what to say to that, on how to comment. It was clear at some point Monty had started to care, to watch, to observe him because it mattered to him how Miller was, but Miller wasn’t sure anyone had ever cared so much. Sure, Clarke and Raven and even Murphy would probably all be willing to fight at his side until the end of his days, but it was such a different breed of caring than the one Monty had set forth.

Miller hadn’t realized it was missing in his life until Monty showed up and tried to hand it to him with an exuberant smile and shining eyes. Now he wasn’t sure he could ever let it go.

“I had my fair share of trouble with the law,” Miller spoke up suddenly, the words coming from somewhere Miller couldn’t even seem to control. “All through High School I was skipping classes and ditching school, had a pile of truancy tickets sky high. I’d skip school and go to the mall and pretend I was someone completely different, steal shit because I thought it made me tough. Well, not even that, I thought it would make me feel like I was finally getting something back from this shitty ass piece of rock.”

“Why did you stop?” Monty asked, leaning forward with curiosity. Miller was surprised at the ease with which the words came from him (he wasn’t all that sure he had ever spoken so many consecutively, but it felt nice to have them flow from his mouth so openly).

“I never really got in trouble, which was part of it. My dad was a police officer and he was always able to cover my ass, which took some of the fun out of it I guess,” he admitted. “Mostly I realized stealing shit wasn’t really doing anything. I was pissed at the world because it took my mom away, but I should have realized the world is just a fucked up place, you can’t change it with petty crime.”

“Hey,” Monty exclaimed lightly, “don’t diminish your crime. I’m sure you were a great thief.”

Miller felt a small laugh bubble from his throat, a smile stretching across his face, and the sight of it must have been more surprising than he thought because Monty’s smile grew to something brighter than Miller had ever seen it before.

Miller couldn’t stop his lips from stretching even wider at the thought.

 

* * *

 

 Miller was taking the orders of a group of college kids when Monty pushed through the door with a mixture of anxiety and aggression. He walked in with a sort of panicked energy, hopping from foot to foot. Instead of moving to sit in his booth like he normally would, he pushed against the counter, not even bothering to take a seat as he leaned against it.

“I’ll finish this up,” Clarke whispered, grabbing his notepad roughly from his hand. “Your boyfriend looks distraught.”

Miller didn’t bother to correct her, it was so beyond useless at that point to do it anyhow. He stepped over to Monty who was clearly out of it, not seeming to notice the approaching footfalls until Miller was a foot in front of him, eyeing him with concern.

“What’s up?” Miller questioned. Monty’s eyes snapped to him, nervousness and excitement bottled within his gaze.

“Has someone ever said something to you that made so much sense? And once you hear it you just can’t  _un_ hear it?” he rambled, looking pathetically at Miller.

“You don’t sound ok,” Miller drawled, stepping forward to touch a hand to his forehead.

“You’re not listening,” Monty grunted, swatting the hand away.

“I’m listening, you just make no sense,” Miller provided.

“You’re no- you know what? Fuck it,” Monty declared, pushing off of the counter and tugging Miller toward him by grabbing at his shirt. Miller stumbled forward at the pull, accidentally pushing Monty back against the counter, but before he could ask what the hell was going on, Monty had already claimed his lips with his own.

Miller was practically shocked into a catatonic state, but after a few seconds he found he’d started to reciprocate the kiss without even thinking about it. His hands grabbed at Monty’s hips, his lips matching the passion that Monty was pushing into every movement of his lips. Weeks ago Miller thought he had hated Monty, but it was abundantly clear as Monty wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer that somewhere along the line that had changed.

“Get a room!” one of the college kids yelled, snapping Monty out of the moment and making him jolt back abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered out breathlessly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Does it look like I’m complaining?” Miller replied, surprised by the honesty of his own words. Monty finally met his eyes, a hopefulness that was so adorable Miller’s chest seemed to tighten pathetically at the thought. “What brought this on exactly?”

“Harper telling me I need to live for the moment, something like that,” Monty stated, pushing it off with a flippant fling of his hand and a brilliant smile at Miller.

“Remind me to thank Harper.”

“Do you want to go on a date sometime?” Monty asked. “I promise I won’t take you to a diner.”

Miller chuckled underneath his breath, grabbing on to Monty’s hand because he just couldn’t  _help_  it. “ _Deal_.”


End file.
